Cave Fragments: Wrinkles & Afterglow
by masksarehot
Summary: Two fluffy wee snippets set after The Cave II (Spoilers!) On a special anniversary, Amon & Korra share a dance, forming a memory so strong that it will resonate with the next generation.
1. Wrinkles

**A/N: **I felt compelled to write a fluffy little ficlet thing. This hasn't been edited, so apologies for typos and complete lack of polish. Set in _The Cave_ universe, many many years after the main body of _The Cave II: Shadows of the City_. There are more Cave Fragments to come, and hopefully they will be longer and more polished than this. ;)

Note: the first chapter of this fic was originally "Afterglow", but this little drabble comes a few hours before it, so I decided to lump them together into one fic. Sorry for the confusion!

Note: this won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read at least_ The Cave._ Sorry! :3

* * *

**Wrinkles**

Amon stepped out of the shower; out of the corner of his eye, he saw a grey-haired man. He fell into fighting stance and whirled to face the man, then relaxed when he saw that he was challenging a mirror.

A bit embarrassed, he stepped closer and reached out a wrinkled hand to wipe off the fog. A face, his but not his, stared back at him. His eyes were sunken in a pool of wrinkles; his once full lips were shrivelled. His nose seemed longer, the sharp tip beginning to droop. The scarred skin around his forehead and cheeks sagged, and his hair was silver, just barely thinning on top. He frowned – the motion completely reshaped the wrinkles on his face – and touched his jaw as he tilted his head to examine different angles.

A knock sounded at the door. "You okay in there?"

He pulled on his mask and snapped the band behind his head. "You can come in."

The door opened, and Korra stepped through, nose buried in a pamphlet. "Did you know they have a cave where you can go spelunking? I thought it might be fun to visit. Maybe we can sneak off and—" She stopped as her eyes caught his. "You okay?"

"I am entertaining thoughts that I should not be entertaining." He trailed his gaze down her body, lamenting the growing differences between them. As the Avatar, she aged at a slower rate than he did, and youth had been to her advantage to begin with. Her long hair was barely streaked with grey, the brown still rich and healthy. There were fine lines by her eyes and mouth, but her eyes were vibrant and her skin glowed. She carried herself well, with none of the aches and pains that were starting to plague him. She looked like a woman in her forties, not her seventies, and studying her now brought into focus the topic they had purposefully avoided discussing, one that was becoming more relevant as time passed.

He glanced back at the mirror. "I'm growing aware of my own mortality."

She approached him from behind and slung her arms around his shoulders. Her hands slid down his muscled chest and abdomen; his body, at least, still retained an approximate shape of his youth.

"But you believe in reincarnation," she said. "So death doesn't matter."

"It's not death I fear," he said softly. "It is separation."

In the mirror, he saw her face collapse. "I don't want to think about it."

"There is no escaping the inevitable, Korra."

"I don't want to think about it," she said again, her arms tightening around him. He closed his eyes and sank back into the soft warmth of her body. He tried to slow his breaths, in and out through the slit of his mask.

"What brought this on?" she asked gently.

He hesitated. "We have no mirrors in the bathroom at home, and when I wear my mask, I cannot see how old I have become…"

There was a pause, then she gripped his arm and spun him to look at her. "Wait, you're upset about your appearance? I thought this was about mortality."

He cleared his throat, but couldn't meet her eyes. "They are interlinked. My haggard appearance-"

She cut him off with a soft laugh. "Haggard? I didn't realize you were so vain, Amon. Here, bend down." She lifted the mask off of his face and set it on the table, then reached up, on her tiptoes. Her fingers traced his hairline, down his sideburns, across his scarred chin. "This is a beautiful face."

"Wrinkled," he said.

"Weathered," she corrected.

"Scarred."

"It has a story to tell."

"Leathery."

She paused. "Age-appropriately textured."

He felt himself smiling, amused by her persistence, and she smiled back. Her hand tugged his chin until he bent down to her eye level. "Amon, you have to understand something: each of those wrinkles was written by expressions you made while we were together, while we built this life together." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I love your wrinkles. And I love you. In this life and any that follow."

He let his forehead rest against hers for a moment, relishing the sensation of her breath against his lips, and he found that the uncertainty of their future no longer mattered.

"I love you, too," he whispered.


	2. Afterglow

**A/N: **This one is technically set a few hours after Wrinkles, so I decided to put the two together as a 2-chapter ficlet just for the sake of organization, with Afterglow as Chapter 2 even though it used to be Chapter 1. Sorry for the confusion! If you're looking for the new fic, it is Chapter 1.

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**Afterglow**

As the music began to play, couples flooded the dance floor. The women's skirts flared as they spun, so colourful and synchronized that they looked more like a child's music box than real people.

"Remember how we used to dance?" said Korra with a wistful sigh.

Behind the mask, Amon's brow cocked. "With you constantly stomping on my toes?"

She laughed. "Care to relive the memories? I promise to go easy on your poor feet." Her hand reached out, skin wizened, but fingers still slim and graceful.

"I would be honoured." His digits intertwined with hers, alternating dark and pale, the fit as comfortable now as it had been decades prior. He brought them to his face for a porcelain kiss, then led her onto the dance floor.

As with every aspect of their lives, their dance had been honed with the passing years: they swooped across the floor with such grace that the younger couples around them stopped to watch. He spun her away from him, then back again; his back complained as he dipped her, but he ignored it. The laughter that bubbled from her lips was worth the aches.

"They're all staring," she said.

"I would be staring, too." He brought her close so he could whisper in her ear: "You are stunning."

When he pulled away, she was blushing. "I love you, Amon."

It amazed him that the words still had the power to dizzy him. "Fifty years, Korra."

"Fifty years." She spun, light on her feet. "How's that for your unhappy ending?"

"Better than I ever imagined." He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her as the song ended, pressing his forehead to hers. "When I am gone, this love will be our legacy."

"Don't talk that way." She snuggled beneath his chin. "We will live forever."

.*.*.*.

Hamal steps onto the aged dance floor; it creaks beneath his weight. "Is this place safe?"

"Of course it's safe. It's still standing, isn't it?" Charmaine stomps the floor to prove her point.

He arches a brow at her. "Such flawless logic."

She ignores him and points at the yellowed banners on the wall. "Look." The first half of the banner is torn down, but the rest clearly reads: -_atar Korra_. "Just imagine a time when the Avatar was celebrated, when galas were thrown in her honour. She was their princess, their hero: they would all watch with starry eyes as she twirled across the dance floor, clad in expensive gowns, sparkling with jewels." She runs onto the floor and begins to hum, spinning and twirling with an imaginary partner.

He tries to stay grumpy, but her enthusiasm is contagious, and he feels a smirk tug at his face. "You call that dancing?"

As she whirls to face him, her hands slam onto her hips. "I suppose you can do better?"

"Of course I can." He jogs onto the floor and stands before her, then gives a deep bow. "Avatar Charmaine, I would be honoured if you would dance with me."

There is a pause so long that he looks up. Her cheeks are dark.

"I don't really know how to dance," she stammers.

"You'll do fine. It's just like airbending. Follow my lead." He places a hand on her waist and laces his fingers through hers, then pulls her into step. His humming is off-key and obnoxious even to his own ears, but she chimes in, their discordant notes somehow blending into a pleasing harmony. He tries to dip her, and she stumbles, laughing.

When he pulls her upright, they lock eyes. Their feet slow. He can feel her breath against his mouth, and he finds himself studying her lips, wondering how they taste.

"I feel something," she says quietly. "A connection to Avatar Korra. A memory, just out of reach. Like a dream I've just woken from: pleasant and warm, but I can't recall the details."

He stares, unable to find his voice. Inexplicably, the same emotion is tightening his throat, and he pulls her into a hug. At first, she is stiff, but her body slowly melts against his. A thought floats through his mind, not his own:

_We will live forever._


End file.
